Once More, With Feeling
by Muffinzelda
Summary: The return of Inspector Lewis means that there is trouble in paradise for Laura and Robbie. This is a series of short reflections, missing scenes, and episode tags from series 8 that are not necessarily connected to one another. Chapter 7 is new!
1. The Conversation, part 1

Disclaimer: This story is for fan purposes only. All characters and plot are property of their respective owners (not me!) and are used here without permission. Enjoy!

Author Note: One of the most frustrating things about series 8 was that we never got to see Robbie and Laura actually discuss his return to work. "The conversation" could take many different directions, but here is how it might start...

* * *

"You wish to complain about my level of service?" Robbie Lewis shook his head at Laura Hobson. Fair enough; let's have it out then, Laura."

"I had to find out from bloody Hathaway! He asked how you were, you know. I foolishly told him how much you were enjoying your life of leisure. God, what an imbecile I am."

"No, Laura. Sit down with me."

"No, Robbie. I need more wine." She stomped off to the kitchen. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Listen, Laura. I was always a terrible student in my history classes in school, but I believe that a very long time ago- ancient history really- hardly worth bringing up- anyway, a long time ago there was a bloke like a certain Spanish dictator. Except he was German. And I had to go ask Hathaway what it was that you were going on about. He told me, and then I threw a tantrum in the interview room with a suspect. So trust me, Laura, you couldn't have looked any more foolish than me. I think that we both just need to accept…"

"…that we both need to work on our communication skills?"

"… that Hathaway always knows far too much about everything. We mere mortals can't compete with that."

Laura conceded a little laugh.

"So, can we sit down and talk about this now?"

Laura pouted, but sat down at the table nonetheless. She was still gripping the wine bottle.

Robbie sat down across from her. "Vino rosso, per favore?"

She took a second glass and poured. "Parla, Roberto."


	2. Tippecanoe and Robbie too

Author Note: "The Conversation" scene may be continued, but not at this time. Apologies if my series 8 pot pourri seems a little disjointed, but the chapters are going to be individual entries. The following chapter is an episode tag for Entry Wounds.

* * *

Lewis and Hathaway paddled down the Cherwell together in the red canoe. Hathaway was having far too much fun teasing his former boss.

"So, have you sorted things out with Laura? I hate to think of you missing out on another Saturday morning fry-up."

"I got the canoe off her patio, didn't I? But it's not really about the space, is it, though. Still, she's all right."

"Is she?" Hathaway decided it was easier to bring up Lewis' troubles in paradise in the safety of the canoe. Here, he didn't have to look at Lewis' face if he casually mentioned sex. "When I last saw you and her together at the Noorans, I had the impression that either she's still mad or you two are into erotic asphyxiation with neckties. Either way, I'm concerned."

"Shut your gob, James."

"It's for your own good, Robbie. Did you learn something from this last case?"

"Yeah, we can never trust a ballistics report ever again."

"Besides that. Alistair Stoke was murdered by his 'work wife' because he didn't know when to retire. He'd forgotten how brutal brain surgery is."

"Hmph. Lucky for me, I think that you're looking at the wrong side of this Alistair Stoke analogy. You see, he was happily married to a much younger woman. My Laura's barely fifty. Still a lass, really."

"If you say so. I just don't want to find your corpse choked to death in a floral scarf."

"That would never happen, James. Knowing Laura, she'd do a decent job of making it look like an accident."

"Look, Robbie, if she's angry, it might be because she's afraid you two will regress to the way things were when you were working- two grown adults foolishly denying how much you want to be with each other."

"Impossible. We're together now, and it's not like we didn't look before the leap."

"No, it's more like you spent a decade staring over the precipice. You and Lizzie with your happy marriages, you forget what the likes of me and Laura have in common: strings of failed relationships."

"Don't expect me to take relationship advice when you've just admitted you're no expert."

"Just don't take her for granted, Robbie."

* * *

Back at the Lewis-Hobson homestead, the sunflowers were wilting in their vase. Robbie had brought them home as a peace offering on Innocent's suggestion but Laura didn't want anything to do with them. Ever hopeful, Robbie dutifully changed the water every day.

Laura came down the stairs into the kitchen. "Honestly Robbie, you could just throw those out now. They're past their prime."

"Can I? I'm not sure I've been forgiven yet."

She rolled her eyes.

He continued. "If the flowers don't work, I'm afraid I might have to resort to poetry."

"Hmm, if you're working on a composition, I'd like to hear it."

"Roses are red, corpses are blue, something something something, is my dinner still in the canoe?"

"That's…" She laughed for lack of a better response.

"…The worst poem you ever heard?"

"Quite. It might be for the best that you didn't give up your day job." She wrapped her arms around him.

"You know, Laura, I learned a new turn of phrase during this case, and I don't like it."

"What's that?"

"Work wife. As in, Alistair Stoke was murdered by his. She probably kept him in line, listened to his troubles, and maybe even made dentist appointments for him. They were much more than colleagues, but he wasn't committed to her. You can pretend to strangle me all you want, Laura Hobson, but I don't want to go back to the way things were between us. I want to go back to work, but I don't want a work wife. I much prefer coming home to you every night."

"On that we agree." Laura stood on her tip toes to give him a big kiss.


	3. Dr Hobson, Queen of Denial

Author Note: on to Beyond Good and Evil, where I speculate on what we missed leading up to the scene of Laura and Robbie's row in the mortuary… (This chapter now includes two new paragraphs for extra angst near the end.)

* * *

Dr. Laura Hobson faked a smile as she left her home and walked to her car. The forced pleasantry was on behalf of uniformed PC Arthur Jones who was standing sentinel in her front yard.

"I don't like it, Robbie," she'd said when he'd rung to explain to her the latest development in the Graham Lawrie debacle. Not only had the forensic laboratory bungled the evidence, but somehow Lawrie had smuggled a mobile phone past the staff at Thamesmarsh mental institution.

"I know, love, but it's procedure. Innocent thought it best after Lawrie sent me that text." _See you soon. _ "Besides, having a copper outside should make you feel safer."

"Oh really? I hope it makes _you_ feel safer, because it seems to have the opposite effect on me!"

Lewis chose his words delicately. "Laura, love, it could be that you're upset because…"

Hobson did not allow him to respond and instead turned the tables back on Lewis. "Because Lawrie is playing a game with you and you are walking right into it! Let's say Lawrie is in cahoots with another killer. You are practically luring him or her to our doorstep by leaving PC Jones there as a tasty little snack."

Lewis sighed. Maybe she was right, but he knew that wasn't the real reason she was so upset about having a police presence at their house. _It's because the last time I had uniform positioned outside your home, it didn't do any good. You were kidnapped and buried alive. _He thought it, but he didn't dare speak it. "Look, I'll try to get over to see you when I can. We'll talk about it then," he ventured instead.

One of the things that Lewis loved most about Hobson was her resilience. Lewis himself had been known to wallow in the past, but Hobson always moved on. Lewis was beginning to realise, however, that it wasn't merely resilience that drove Hobson; it was denial. Her coping mechanism, as it were, was to pretend that the attack didn't happen, that Ligeia's twins never even existed.

After her Halloween ordeal, she packed her things, sold the house on Valdemar Court and started again. She exuded confidence and never showed Lewis any weakness; she was actually glad that it had been Hathaway who'd held her through the screams and sweats and shakes. She wouldn't want Lewis to see her like that- not so much as a matter of pride, but rather that she didn't want to see his reaction. She'd always been his anchor since Val died, and an anchor must not fail lest a ship- Lewis- might crash headlong at full speed into the harbour or worse- against the rocky coast.

The day of Ligeia's funeral Lewis had taken her to the Trout to 'blow off the cobwebs' but that day had been about mending their friendship rather than lovers bearing their souls. And of course, Hathaway had been along to chaperone.

When they finally became lovers, Lewis and Hobson vowed to cherish each other from that day forward, never looking back at the past. Lewis always thought that had been for his own benefit- to ease the constant reminders of his late wife- but in truth Hobson was just as happy to not dwell on days gone by.

So Lewis never told Hobson how he came to her hospital room and watched over her as she slept, ducking out when the nurse came to check her vital signs for fear that she might awake and be angry to find him there. And Hobson, who had given the inspector a factual account of the events, never let Lewis into her private emotional hell. But the latent trauma was there, nonetheless, and it manifested itself sometimes in odd ways- such as an off-handed remark over a shooting victim.

'You, me, James, a hole in the ground- it's what weekends were made for.'

Whatever he'd done or not done on that Halloween night, Lewis needed Hobson now, and needed to keep her safe. With a heavy heart, Lewis headed off to the mortuary to suggest that Hobson take some time off and hide away for a while. He followed her with his pathetic eyes as she darted from room to room. Hobson was not the damsel in distress and quite resented Lewis coming to her mortuary like an overprotective lover rather than her partner. Though if it seemed that her reaction was exceedingly harsh, it was her compulsive behaviour to deny the very real danger that Lewis sensed around her.

Would it have been different if instead of trying to send her away, he had offered to go with her? _Come away with me, Robbie! _She wanted to cry out to him, but she knew he would never go. So she too would stay, bringing him coffee at the hospital and checking in on Sergeant Maddox with him. And when it was at last Graham Lawrie's turn to meet his maker, it was all she could do to ask if Lewis was all right.

"I don't know what to feel," he replied before leaving Hobson to attend Lawrie's corpse. Lawrie's own murder with the same weapon did suggest that Lewis had been wrong all along, yet he knew in the depths of his gut that Lawrie was the inciting agent for all this brutality.

* * *

In time, Lewis would be proven right. Champagne with Innocent and pints with Hathaway were all very friendly celebrations of a good result. But Lewis always did have a hard time letting go. Though he'd lectured Hathaway many a time about not letting work get to him, this case had been particularly tough on Lewis. He came home late that night and plopped onto the sofa, still mired in the senseless tragedy. Three coppers dead by Lawrie's hand thirteen years ago. Another PC felled by Pamela Carson, and bloody hell, she almost killed Lizzie too. He'd grown rather fond of the sergeant from Leeds.

But there was something more weighing on him- a lugubrious empathy for Nietzsche scholar Brendan Ward, who had been a suspect in the case. Ward's boyfriend was one of the coppers killed by Lawrie, unbeknownst to Dr. Rook, who was Lawrie's psychologist and Ward's colleague. When Rook asked Ward to go to Thamesmarsh, Ward accepted. He would have liked to lash out, to avenge the love of his life, but he was barely able to look Lawrie in the eye.

Lewis remembered himself wanting to beat Simon Monkford to a bloody pulp for driving the car that killed Val. He wanted to give himself over to his wilder demons, to hell with the consequences. _Just let go_, he thought. _Unleash, man. Hathaway will stop me if I go too far… _But Simon Monkford was a far cry from the serial killer that was Graham Lawrie. In the end, Lewis did confront Monkford, but he simply told the pathetic weasel that Val deserved better. Alone on the couch, Lewis shivered again.

He would not be alone much longer for Hobson came downstairs, bathrobe tied over her pyjamas. "I thought I heard you come in a half hour ago. Aren't you coming up?" She called from the stairs, but as she approached the couch, she found him with that vacant expression on his face- the one she'd seen all too often over the years. She sighed and sat next to him on the couch, rubbing her hand up and down his leg supportively.

"Night cap? Or as a bed time story I could re-read you some of the more gruesome passages from Graham Lawrie's post-mortem report."

"No. I need to put Graham Lawrie behind me. Help me forget, Laura."

She kissed him on the cheek. "I can do that." She went to the kitchen and returned with a plate of Lewis' favourite biscuits. She set the plate in front of him on the coffee table. As he leaned forward to take one, sprightly Laura wedged herself behind him on the couch and began to massage his shoulders. "While you're gobbling down your biscuits, I shall tell you all about the carrot greens we have sprouting in the garden. And soon we'll need to think about digging up the potatoes too."

He smiled. "Now you're talking. I'm more of a meat and potatoes man, meself."

"We'll have a good crop this year, Robbie." She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, as tightly as she could in a life-affirming embrace.

If Lewis and Hobson were adrift between the two extremes of stubborn memory and oblivion, they found in each other a beacon of hope that reconciled their past, present, and future.


	4. Maddox and the Voyage of Discovery

When Lizzie Maddox was going through her training to become a detective, not all of the learning was by the book. The most useful information often came by word of mouth. One such lesson was this: if you find yourself in the presence of a dead body, stay out of the way of the lead pathologist, Dr Hobson. She will eat you alive if you so much as breathe on one of her corpses. The term 'dragon lady' was also thrown around…

Lizzie learned her lessons well and became DS Maddox- she loved the job, but hated her boss. She didn't quite know what to make of DI Hathaway, elitist, Cambridge educated, esoteric, didn't seem to trust anyone else in the department to complete even menial tasks. So one can imagine Lizzie's surprise at what she saw (from a respectful distance) when she was called to her first murder investigation. Dr Hobson leapt up from the corpse to embrace Hathaway! DI Hathaway looked suitably embarrassed as Hobson playfully checked his ID. _Now that is odd_, thought Maddox.

Odder still was the phone call she'd received a few hours later from the aforementioned pathologist. "Hello, Sergeant Maddox? Dr Hobson. Regarding our shotgun victim, I know that Hathaway wanted the PM this afternoon, but I'm afraid it won't be possible."

"OK, I'll let him know."

"But, Maddox, I do have a question about the shotguns that I believe I saw you removing from the property."

"Go ahead."

"Did my eyes deceive me, or was the retired Inspector Lewis assisting you?"

"That's correct; DI Lewis is joining us in the investigation. It appears that Innocent has coaxed him out of retirement."

"I see."

An uncomfortable silence followed so Maddox prompted Hobson. "Did you have a have a question about the shotguns?"

"Tell Lewis that his dinner is in the canoe."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. He will understand what that means."

Hobson hung up leaving a bewildered Maddox staring at her mobile. She shook her head and went into the office to deliver the message.

Maddox was always annoyed to hear male supervisors telling overworked coppers to smooth things over at home with some flowers, but when Innocent suggested that same gesture to Lewis, Maddox found it rather endearing.

The puzzle pieces were coming together now. She couldn't hide her smile as she returned to the office she shared with DI Hathaway. Her governor looked up from the files he was scrutinizing. "What, Maddox?"

"Nothing, sir."

"No, you're grinning like the Cheshire cat. Why?"

"It's just… Lewis and Hobson. I didn't know until just now." Lewis had already mentioned to Maddox that Hathaway was his protégé. The kind, unassuming Lewis had taken responsibility for any of Hathaway's foibles as a result of his own 'bad parenting.' _I guess that makes you Lewis and Hobson's overgrown man-child, sir. _That realisation (which she would never confess aloud) was the real reason for her Cheshire cat grin.

Hathaway then did something unexpected: he reciprocated Maddox's smile. "Yeah, Lewis and Hobson. It's… nice." For the first time in their partnership, Hathaway opened up about something personal to Maddox. He suddenly found himself telling Maddox all about being Lewis' sergeant. "I never thought they'd really get together; they spent years- and I mean years- in a holding pattern afraid to admit they were more than friends. Mrs. Lewis had died in a car accident, you see, and heaven knows that Hobson has her own issues. But in the end, those two are really good for each other."

Maddox nodded. "We should all be so lucky."

* * *

About a month later...

"Pizza?" Laura Hobson cried out, with all the indignation of a woman who had always played by her own rules yet suddenly discovered that her life had become a sitcom. Only a short time ago Maddox never would have believed that she was on Hobson's couch sharing a bottle of wine with the pathologist and Hathaway who was slumped over in Lewis' favourite easy chair. Lewis himself had been reveling in the hosting duties- putting on records and putting a salad together in the kitchen- when the doorbell rang. Maddox hoped it was her husband Tony who was slated to join them after his shift at the pumping station, but it was a stack of pizza.

Hobson, who had been wary of Lewis' voyage of discovery meals, did not seem any more relieved that he had ordered out. Lewis gave Hobson a look that said, 'oh come on, you didn't really think I was cooking did you?' as she took the pizza from him and went to the kitchen. Maddox enjoyed watching these two. She followed Hobson while Lewis went to rouse the lump that was Hathaway.

Hobson began to apologise to Maddox. "Sorry, I had hoped to offer you something more than pizza, but this is what happens when he doesn't let me in the kitchen."

"No worries. Pizza is fine. Comfort food after a long week. But still, that is a lot of pizza! How much does Lewis expect us to eat?"

"Don't let Robbie's physique fool you; he can put away the better part of a pizza alone." Hobson said, then paused before continuing. "But all the same, I think he misses his kids and their appetites."

Maddox nodded. She and Hobson glanced back to the living room where Lewis was walking away from a sulking Hathaway. He had a smug grin for he knew that Hathaway would follow him momentarily.

Hathaway joined them at the table, still sullen. The more Maddox saw Hathaway outside of the office, the more she better understood his behaviour- and she had Lewis to thank for that. Hathaway wasn't just detached and aloof. He was genuinely torn up about the resolution of the case. The killer, Paul Brightway, had been betrayed by his wife and was not the father of their little girl. Many men would walk away from the marriage and the child, but Brightway went so far as to murder someone to save the child's life. Moreover, Maddox realised that cases involving children particularly bothered Hathaway.

Hobson refreshed Hathaway's glass of wine, though Lewis had only refilled it a few minutes ago. Another thing that Maddox observed was that Laura Hobson did not let anyone's wine glass go empty for any length of time. Maddox was astounded by the amount of wine someone with such a petite frame could hold. _But she's a pathologist, so I guess she knows her poisons! _Maddox reckoned.

When it came time to break up the little soirée, Maddox turned to her boss. "Sir, let me drive you home. Tony can follow us with your car."

"I'm fine." Hathaway protested. "Go home, sergeant."

"Sir, I can't let you…" Maddox started, but Lewis took her by the arm.

He led Maddox towards Tony, who held out her coat. "It's all right, Lizzie. I'll make up the spare room for him. My fault, really. I should have cut him off two bottles ago." Lewis said before sighing. "Back when I was a sergeant, I had to go collect me governor too many times when he'd fallen in his cups. You shouldn't have to do that."

"Thank you, sir, for everything that you do. And the pizza was excellent." She winked at Lewis and they bid each other good night.

* * *

In the car on the way home, Tony Maddox asked his wife, "so, do you still hate your boss?"

"No." The sergeant tried to explain Lewis and Hathaway to Tony. "Tone, have you ever met anyone who brings out the best in everyone?"

"Surely you don't mean Hathaway. He barely said two words the entire evening."

"No, Lewis, of course. But I think that Hathaway just needs some stability in his life. He actually studied at seminary to be a priest, but he left. Then he left the police to go on this pilgrimage that he never finished. I think his heart is still on the way to Santiago de Compostela sometimes. Lewis is the only one who knows how to reach him and bring him back down to earth. Lewis is quite good at ironing out Hobson too."

"Well, they say that no one can serve two masters, but if it means that you come home from work in a good mood more often, then I'm glad that you have two bosses, Liz. Thank heavens for Inspector Lewis." Tony said as they pulled up in front of their home.

Sergeant Maddox couldn't agree more.


	5. Consolation Prize

Hathaway: What are the events in the modern pentathlon?

Lewis: If we're doing pub quizzes, we're doing them in the pub or I'm going home.

Author note: The preceding exchange was not aired in the US broadcast. (Curse you, PBS!) I give you a prologue to Entry Wounds, set the Friday night before Dr Hobson and DI Hathaway were called to the scene of Alistair Stoke's murder.

* * *

James Hathaway was a studious lad, and at the present, he was studiously avoiding Robbie Lewis. It had been the better part of a year since the two had last seen each other. He'd taken a leave of absence to make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Campostela and returned just in time to leave again—this time for his inspector's course at Innocent's behest. When James returned, Robbie had been in Manchester doting on Lyn's little family for an extended visit. After that, Robbie had invited James to supper at the house with him and Laura a few times, but James would mysteriously cancel at the last minute. So Robbie decided to rope James into something a little more casual and sure to appeal to James' penchant for being a cleverclogs.

"Hurry up, Laura." Robbie chided as his girlfriend brushed her hair. "It's nearly half eight already and the quiz starts at nine."

"You hate pub trivia, Robbie."

"I know, but I promised James it would be fun."

"Famous last words, Robbie."

* * *

At the pub, Robbie fidgeted with the coasters while he scanned the entrance looking for James. Laura tried to distract him. "What shall our team name be, Robbie?"

"Return of the Boy Wonder? or Canny Lads?" Robbie suggested.

"And lass, thank you very much." Laura shook her head and scribbled at the top of the page- Pathological Partners.

Robbie chuckled. "Perfect, Laura."

Soon, the quiz was underway, but James had yet to appear. James had rung to say he'd try his best to make last orders, but Robbie wasn't in the habit of carrying a mobile anymore. Laura noticed how Robbie had the same forlorn look on his face that he wore when Lyn was too busy to have a decent conversation or when he left another voicemail for his son, knowing that it would go unanswered. Laura rubbed her leg up against his under the table, and he gave her his grateful if not weary smile.

To compound Robbie's melancholy, the quiz questions seemed to mock James' absence. World music, the Bible, and the illustrator of James' favourite graphic novel, the Nightkeeper… 'James would know' became their refrain.

Quizzes in general put Robbie in a bad mood because they made him feel unintelligent; Laura too became frustrated because she prided herself on being quite intelligent, yet all these random bits and bobs seemed to prove the contrary. Despite her chagrin, Laura magnanimously got up in front of everyone and made her way to the bar to accept the booby prize when she and Robbie came in last place. She shoved the prize into her handbag before returning to their table.

"What did we win, love? A swift kick in the arse?"

"No. A promotional t-shirt. Many sizes too big for anyone smaller than an elephant."

Robbie knew that Laura had a competitive streak, and he hated to disappoint her as much as she hated to lose. "I'm sorry we were dead last, love. I promise I'll win you a teddy bear at the next police charity fête."

Laura smiled. "Don't apologise, Robbie; I never should have missed that question on mitochondria! One more question correct and we would have been out of the basement."

"Are we agreed that we never play pub trivia again?"

"Absolutely. Come on, old man. Let's go home."

* * *

Laura worried sometimes that she wasn't enough for Robbie in retirement. When he wasn't with his kids or he didn't have any massive home repair projects consuming his time, Laura was the centre of his world. Whenever this bothered her, she consoled herself knowing that it was better than the alternative- there had been a time, after all, when he had had no one at all. She herself thrived independently, but Robbie? He needed someone.

Robbie entered the bedroom and saw her brooding, staring out the window as she was supposed to be getting ready for bed. "What's wrong, love?"

She turned to face him. Doing her best north-eastern accent she said, "I'm just not sure that 'broon' is me best colour," as she untied her bathrobe and let it fall to the ground. She scrunched up her face and laughed at herself, practically swimming in a Newcastle Brown Ale t-shirt that would be too large for him, let alone for her. She felt utterly ridiculous, at her age, standing there in an oversized t-shirt they'd won at a bar…

…but Robbie didn't see it that way at all. "Laura, you're a smasher."

Needless to say, Laura and Robbie were able to salvage something of the evening after all.

* * *

Meanwhile, someone else was worried about disappointing Robbie Lewis too. James Hathaway stared at his mobile. He had received an annoyed text message from Laura Hobson. He had so wanted to join them; he missed Robbie's plain-spoken truths and Laura's morbid sense of humour. They were quite possibly the only people who could understand him. But here he sat at the police station, buried under a mountain of work. It was work that he should have delegated, but he was keeping his sergeant at arms' length. He'd berated his last sergeant when things weren't done 'just so' and had driven the poor man to Innocent's office to request reassignment. He took that loss to heart. Why couldn't he be the mentor that Lewis had been?

Hathaway'd left Cambridge because he was too frivolous to be a priest, and he'd left Oxford because he was too serious to be a copper. Despite these failures, he knew that he had a gift for solving mysteries. He had been deciding if he wanted to unravel the enigmas of the divine or the earthly all along the St. James Way. He realised that coppers were supposed to be serious, much more so than priests were supposed to be frivolous, anyway. So he came home to give being a serious detective his all. He knew that Robbie Lewis had high hopes for him. And James couldn't bear to let Robbie down. So alone he sat, committed to his misery, more like his erstwhile governor than he realised.


	6. Hobson's Choice

Author Note: I give you Hobson's Choice, or The Conversation, part 3. Part 3? What happened to part 2? I'm going to assume that Robbie and Laura had a bit of a row over his unexpected return to the Oxfordshire Police. This scene picks up later that night.

* * *

Robbie Lewis was up late ironing—and thinking about his relationship with Laura Hobson. The last time he had found himself in this situation, he'd been wracked with nerves about taking her to Glyndebourne. This time, he was concerned with so much more- their everyday life together. Would she forgive him for going back to work without consulting her?

His hand grazed the iron just enough to make him feel pain, to remind him of the task at hand. _Just do enough shirts to get me through a few days_, he told himself. He usually took his suits to the dry cleaners who also pressed the shirts, but he hadn't expected the sudden need to be wearing suits on a regular basis again. Only this morning he'd been puttering around with his canoe kit and the only interview on his mind was with the blokes at the hardware store about which wood glue would best suit his needs. But now his head was swimming: Jean Innocent's job offer, the mystery of a neurosurgeon with a bullet in his brain, and Laura's overreaction to his news. Desperate words echoed in his mind.

_I thought you were happy here with me!_

_I am, Laura, but I just need to get out of the house…_

_That's what the bloody canoe is for!_

They'd retreated to separate corners of the house until it was time to start the bedtime routine. As Robbie had been laying out his clothes for the next day, Laura went to the closet. He watched as she stood on the points of her toes to examine the top shelf. "Can I help, love?" Robbie was nearly a foot taller than his girlfriend. Despite- or perhaps because of- her small stature, Laura shot Robbie a dirty look, grabbed a chair and then accessed what she was looking for on the top shelf.

"Jean Innocent expects her DIs to adhere to a certain standard." Laura thrust the iron against his chest. "And I won't have my boyfriend looking like a ragamuffin Inspector." Of course, Laura paid her neighbour to do her personal ironing, thus the iron had been relegated to the top shelf.

"Erm, thanks, pet."

* * *

Laura was ensconced in their bed by the time Robbie was done ironing. She did not keep the light on for him. Robbie undressed in the dark and then slipped under the covers of their bed. "Laura?" He whispered.

She consciously slowed her breathing so that he would believe that she was asleep.

Laura was still as a corpse, so Robbie let his emotions come out. He beseeched her in the faintest of voices, "don't give up on me, pet. I know I've let you down, but I'll make it up to you. We'll go to Italy one day, I promise."

She decided that she couldn't feign sleep any longer and rolled over to face him, but did not raise her head off the pillow. Robbie gave a start as she began to turn. "Hobson's Choice," she said simply.

Robbie was not sure what to make of that. "Is Hobson's Choice that Lewis sleeps in the canoe?" He hoped not.

"Hardly. Even if you had that canoe in decent enough shape that it could support human weight- which you don't as it is still in pieces on my patio- I wouldn't ask you to sleep there. Hobson's Choice, you see, is when you haven't any choice at all. I am very angry at you, but I could never tell you to pack your bags because the thought of living without you is unbearable. I love you too much, Robbie. I have no choice but to accept your decision, but I don't have to like it."

Robbie felt his burden lightened, if not lifted. "I love you too, Laura. That's all that matters."

Laura propped herself up on her elbow. "I am notoriously bad at living life on someone else's terms, Robbie."

"Heh, I've known that for years! You're all right, Laura. It's only for a year or so, and then you'll have me all to yourself again."

Laura said nothing but laid her head on Robbie's chest and patted him tenderly. He exhaled and truly relaxed for the first time since he realised how much he'd upset her.

A half-hearted "I'm still mad at you," escaped her lips.

"Of course you are. You never give up a fight." Robbie answered as he kissed her hair. "That's why I love you. Any reasonable person would have given up on me years ago."

"So now I'm unreasonable, am I?" She intoned with mock indignation.

"Mm hmm. Mad as a March hare."

"You cocky sod."

"You wouldn't have it any other way, love. I believe they call that Hobson's Choice. See, I'm learning, eh?"

Laura sighed with weary resignation. But what was she resigning herself to? The warmth of the man she'd loved for so many years… Even back in the days when she knew that he couldn't reciprocate her feelings, she just couldn't help herself. Couldn't walk away if she'd tried. And now that they were together, she finally understood love and all it entails.

Robbie smiled in satisfaction; but he also knew better than to ask Laura about his breakfast.


	7. Taking Teamwork to Heart

Author Note: Here is one last musing on series 8- episode tags for Entry Wounds and Beyond Good and Evil to tie things together. I like the idea of two alliances developing in series 8- team "struggling to be relevant" (Robbie and Lizzie) and team "really, Robbie?" (James and Laura)

* * *

Lewis, Hathaway, and Maddox huddled in their office, listening to a perpetually vexed Dr. Hobson explain her post-mortem report on Rizwan Nooran. The team was tying together all the paperwork to bring the case to a close. "Any questions?" Hobson asked edgily.

"No. Thank you, Doctor." Hathaway said respectfully. He was just glad that the explanation had not included another simulation of strangulation with Lewis' necktie.

Hobson dropped the report on Hathaway's desk and turned to walk out. "Bye, Laura." Lewis called after her. Maddox noticed his forlorn look when Hobson continued to stalk off without a backwards glance.

Hathaway's relief that the trio of detectives had not been subjected anew to Hobson's role-play of the suicide-dressed-up-as-a-murder disappeared 30 seconds later when his mobile beeped indicating a text. "Bloody Hell," he said as he read.

"What now?" Lewis barked, ego bruised.

Hathaway sighed. "Hobson has requested me to meet her outside for a cigarette. 'Come alone,' she says. For all the grief she's given me over the years for smoking..."

"Ach, she doesn't want you to light it. She just wants to wave it around in your face as a stress indicator as she rants. Trust me."

"So that's what a row looks like in the Lewis-Hobson household." Hathaway said under his breath, though Lewis' glare indicated that he'd heard.

Maddox fought to suppress a giggle.

"Just go give her a fag, but don't light it."

* * *

Outside the Oxfordshire Police Station, Hobson asked Hathaway to comply with her demand. "Did you bring me a cigarette, James?"

"Look. I just want to do my job," he said as he handed her the contraband. "I don't want to be in the middle of your domestic dispute." Hobson snorted as he continued. "Just so you know, doctor, I'm not thrilled Robbie's come back to work either. Innocent didn't even consult me, just foisted him on me because apparently she thinks I can't do the job without him. She's gone and humiliated me in front of my new sergeant. I don't need him."

"You apparently do, James, because- with all due respect- you're completely inept when it comes to human relations. You haven't even offered to light my cigarette."

Hathaway realised that 'but Robbie told me not to' would be the wrong answer to give her, so he sighed and pulled out his lighter. He was amazed to see her expertly pull a long drag off the cigarette there in the parking lot. He decided to do the same.

"I love him, James. I've never had a relationship last more than two years or so. My fault, his fault, no fault, I'm just not cut out for it. With Robbie, for the first time in my life, I felt like I had someone... permanent. He even moved in, made me feel things were all cosy and domestic, and damn it all, James, I was so happy. I thought he was too. But he's bored. I'm afraid he's pulling away from me."

"No chance, Doctor. You'll never be rid of Robbie Lewis, trust me. I can't shake him, and I've tried!" Hathaway said.

At last Hobson smiled. "Look after him, James. If a single hair on his head is harmed, I'm holding you accountable."

"That's unfair."

"You're an inspector now, James. That badge comes with great responsibility."

* * *

While Hathaway and Hobson sulked together, Lewis and Maddox tackled the paperwork following the double-murder committed by a vengeful nurse. Rather, Maddox was doing the paperwork and Lewis was staring out the window at the parking lot where Hobson had summoned Hathaway. "Blimey. I think she's actually smoking."

"Sir, forgive me if this is none of my business, but perhaps we can help each other here. If you help me build a rapport with Inspector Hathaway, I'll help you fix things with Dr. Hobson." Maddox offered.

Lewis grinned. "I like the way you think. Let's go for a pint, Sergeant."

"Aren't we meant to be handling all of this?" Maddox said, gesturing to the pile of folders and reports.

"Hathaway has his methods of getting things done, and I have mine." Lewis replied simply.

* * *

Lewis and Maddox got better acquainted at the pub. "What does Dr. Hobson like, sir?"

"Corpses." Lewis fondly remembered a night down by the river where they'd shared fish and chips in the dark, discussing his kids and her corpses.

"Pardon?" Maddox asked.

"Corpses." He reiterated. "My Laura won't admit this to just anyone because she wouldn't want you to think she'd odd, but she gets especially excited when a corpse is infested with maggots." Maddox stared at him incredulously. "She claims her fascination's got something to do with germ theory and dispelling the idea of spontaneous generation. But if you want my opinion, it's her way of experiencing the miracle of life."

Maddox took a drink of her beer. "Is that the best you can do, sir?"

Lewis nodded, confident of his insight into his partner.

Maddox shook her head. "I'll think of something nice, sir."

"Hathaway's the same way, you know. For Hobson it's maggots, but for Hathaway? He loves the bells of Oxford. I don't know if it's a call to duty, a call to prayer, or that he just appreciates the music. But the bells are something special for him."

"Thanks, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

Springtime's tide of murders ebbed and faded into a peaceful summer in Oxford. Hobson was at home in her garden while Lewis was ostensibly working. Her mobile went and she put down her trowel.

"Dr. Hobson?" came the voice at the other end. "It's Sergeant Maddox."

"Lizzie! I thought you were still on leave." Maddox, of course, had had a nasty run in with one of Graham Lawrie's maniacal minions followed by a lengthy recovery.

"It's my first day back, actually, and wouldn't you know, we've got a corpse."

"Ah, I believe you're stuck with Dr. Cook tonight. Sorry." It was common knowledge that Dr. Hobson did not esteem her colleague Dr. Cook.

"That's just it, Doctor. Cook took one look at the decomposing flesh and got sick. He claims he's got a stomach bug, but really, I don't think he can handle it. I mean, I've never seem so many maggots in my life! Can you please come? Inspector Hathaway is getting testy. All the bells in Oxford wouldn't calm him now."

And thus Hobson was intrigued enough to be lured by Maddox to a bucolic lake in the Cotswolds. Sergeant Maddox was waiting by the side of the road when she pulled up. "I'm glad you're here, Doctor. It's just this way."

Hobson zipped up her scene suit and followed Maddox the path towards a dock where the pathologist spied a familiar red canoe in the distance. "What's going on here, sergeant?"

"Doctor Hobson, I have a message for you. Your dinner is in the canoe."

As she approached the lake, Hobson saw Robbie Lewis and a picnic basket waiting inside the vessel.

"What's all this?" She asked skeptically. "I was promised a decomposing corpse."

Hathaway was pulling the canoe to the shore with Lewis inside. "He may not be a corpse, but Robbie _is_ pretty decrepit."

"Oy, you! You're supposed to be helping." Lewis retorted.

"Right. Don't worry, Laura, I taught him how to steer the canoe so you'll be safe." Hathaway teased. "All the same, we decided a lake might be better than the river."

Lewis glared at Hathaway before turning to Hobson. "Sorry there's no corpse, love. Would you settle for cucumber sandwiches and a bottle of wine while we watch the sunset?"

"If I must." She said coyly. She steadied her weight against Hathaway as she stepped into the canoe. "I'm glad you were finally able to make some quality time for me, even if Maddox and Hathaway had to help."

"Yeah, that Maddox is full of good ideas. She offered to feed Monty too. There's a little cottage on the other side of the lake, see." Lewis said bashfully.

"Oh?" Her eyes asked for more details, but Lewis just gave her his eager look and a little chuckle. "Robbie Lewis, if I weren't afraid of tipping this canoe I'd kiss you senseless."

"Ahem, safety first, kids…" Hathaway said as he handed Hobson the second oar and shoved the canoe towards deeper water.

"We're in this together, now, love."

"We always were, Robbie."

"And we always will be."

* * *

I have a few other ideas for series 8, but they require more of an AU interpretation, so it's best to leave things here with cannon more or less in tact. My next project is a thorough AU set within the episode Beyond Good and Evil. Stay tuned!


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